


No Encouragement Necessary

by duplicity



Series: The Office [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Boss/Employee Relationship, Humor, M/M, harry has concerns with company policy, lucius is a gold star friend 2.0, return of tom vs. allergies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity
Summary: Tom Riddle, ambitious assistant, sets out to seduce his new boss Harry Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: The Office [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693762
Comments: 313
Kudos: 550





	1. Harry Potter, Manager

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by [DesertWaterfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertWaterfall) on the CoS discord server:
> 
> _Office AU where Harry is the oblivious boss and Tom is his pining assistant._
> 
> this is basically gonna be 'the office tribute' but in reverse. tom sets out to seduce his hapless boss without any encouragement necessary :)

“Riddle. Riddle, hello?”

Slowly, slowly, Tom pivoted in his chair to stare at his unwelcome visitor.

“I did hear you the first time,” Tom said, “and I chose, quite deliberately, to ignore you.”

Granger’s ruthless nosiness was undeterered by Tom’s scathing glare. “They said Quirrell’s being fired for embezzlement!”

“I’m aware.”

“And,” Granger added, “we’re getting a new replacement in two weeks. Two weeks! I’m in the middle of preparing my proposal for the new ERP system, and now I have no idea if it’ll be approved—”

Tom tried to tune her nattering out, but then she got offended that he wasn’t listening to him. Luckily for him that still worked, because despite her ensuing lecture on rudeness, she did get fed up enough to leave.

Once she was gone, Tom clicked over to his email. Still nothing new. Frustrated, Tom closed the window entirely. His jaw clenched, and it took him a moment to physically unclench it and relax his fists where they were balled up on his desk.

“I can hear your angst from here,” said girl-Weasley through the wall of the cubicle. “Try to tone it down a little.”

Tom picked up a pencil and deliberately snapped it in half.

“Dramatic,” said girl-Weasley.

Tom would have repeated the process, only he didn’t make a habit of keeping more than one pencil around. Pens were much neater. So instead he smacked his fist against the wall.

“Some of us are trying to work,” Tom said crossly. “Go and bother your brother.”

Girl-Weasley blew a loud raspberry but thankfully fell silent, and Tom went back to work.

* * *

By the end of the day, there was still no email from Smith. Tom was at the end of his rope already after a tedious day of dealing with imbeciles over the phone, and so he was not in the mood to talk to anyone.

The problem was that Tom needed answers _now,_ and his only other alternative was making the two hour drive to head office for a proper confrontation. 

With no other choices left to him, Tom waited until the office was empty and called Smith up.

“Zach Smith speaking.”

“Smith, this is Riddle,” Tom said sharply. “What the hell is going on? What’s this I hear about a replacement? You told me that if I brought you evidence of embezzlement, I would get promoted.”

Silence.

Then Smith said, “Listen, Riddle, it’s a bit more complicated than that. I wouldn’t expect you to understand what goes on here at head office—”

_“Complicated?”_ Tom hissed. “What part of our agreement failed to pass into your thick skull? I could have _you_ fired for this, Smith. One call and you’ll be done for. I have all the evidence I need.”

“You wouldn’t,” Smith said, voice crackling with static, “I’d take you down with me.”

Tom allowed himself an indulgent smile, knowing that Smith couldn’t see it. “You say that as if I haven’t covered my tracks. Your word against mine, Smith. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

Smith was quiet for a long while, and then he said in a rush, “Okay, fine. The truth is that there’s nothing I can do, alright? McLaggen railroaded me on this, that smarmy bastard. There’s a new guy coming in two weeks and there was nothing I could do about it—”

Tom slammed his phone back onto the receiver with a sharp _crack_ and let out an inarticulate noise of rage. This was what happened when he drafted incompetents to do his bidding. Failure upon failure.

What was the point of getting Quirrell fired if some other moron was just going to take his place? This was getting absurd; Tom hadn’t slaved away in this blasted company to remain a bloody _assistant_ forever.

Tom would have to run a hatchet job on the new manager and take the information to head office himself. There would be no escape this time, and success would be his. 

* * *

Precisely two weeks later, everyone was gathered in Meeting Room A. Tom hung back, seating himself at the back of the room, waiting to pass judgement on whoever corporate had seen fit to saddle them with.

“Hey, everyone! My name is Harry Potter, and I’ll be your new manager.”

Skinny tie, rumpled black hair, and a wide, lopsided smile. Glasses that sat crooked on the bridge of the nose. Bright green eyes and a lanky build.

If not for the fact that Harry Potter was standing at the front of the room, Tom would have pegged him as an office temp.

“You can all call me Harry, alright? None of those stuffy formalities.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Harry gazed at the crowd with warmth, his eyes touching upon each person in the room as he continued to speak.

“Now I know I’ve got a lot to learn, a lot of names to commit to memory, but I’m really looking forward to getting to know everyone,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling with unbridled enthusiasm. “But a bit about myself, um, I play rugby on the weekends with my mates. I like to draw, even though I’m terrible at it. I can cook, mostly against my will, but my _real_ specialty is things I can heat in a microwave.”

That got a laugh out of most of the gathered employees. Harry beamed in response, rocking back on his heels, and Tom was transfixed by the movement of it. Harry genuinely seemed delighted to be here.

“And if anyone has any questions at all,” Harry said, a warm flush spreading across his dimpled cheeks, “now is the time to ask.”

Then Harry’s eyes, beautiful and wide and vibrant, at last settled on Tom.

Tom smiled in response, unthinkingly so, because Harry was simply perfect, a wonder from head to toe, and Tom _needed_ to have him.

Granger stuck her hand straight into the air to claim the first question, dragging Harry’s attention away. A multitude of thoughts were racing through Tom’s mind as he listened absently to the ensuing open floor.

His original plan would no longer do. This new situation required an entirely different approach. Harry could not be removed from his position like Quirrell had been because Tom wanted Harry to _stay._

* * *

“He’s rather young to be a manager, isn’t he?” Granger said pensively. “Harry, I mean. But he does seem very nice, even if he is inexperienced.”

Granger and girl-Weasley were lurking by the water cooler and gossiping. Tom was watching them, pretending to ignore them, but really he was interested in what they thought.

“A damn sight nicer than Quirrell,” said girl-Weasley, smirking. “I saw him lift a whole box of printer paper this morning because Parkinson asked him to. Bless his sweet little heart. I wonder if he’s inexperienced in _other_ ways.” She winked, and Granger squawked quietly in protest, blushing.

Tom stomped back over to his desk, now disgruntled. Their new manager wasn’t someone to be _ogled,_ for Christ’s sake. Not to mention there were more important things to be done than standing around chattering.

Settling into his chair, Tom stretched his arms out once, ready to do some _actual_ work.

“Hey!”

Tom spun around, prepared to deliver a scathing line about productivity in the workplace, only to be met with Harry Potter’s gorgeous, smiling face.

“Hello,” Tom said, cautious.

“I just wanted to come by and introduce myself personally,” Harry said, sticking out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you—?”

“Tom Riddle.”

“Tom,” repeated Harry. “Very nice to meet you, Tom. You were Quirrell’s assistant as well, is that right?”

Tom took Harry’s hand in his and gave it a solid shake. Warm, dry palm with a fairly-firm grasp. The confidence could be worked on a little, but Harry’s earnestness more than made up for it.

“Yes, I was. It’s nice to meet you,” Tom repeated. “I think we’re all very excited to have you here.”

Harry laughed, self-deprecating, the sound of it so natural that it could not possibly have been forced. “I sure hope so!” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’d hate to work in a building where all my employees think I’m some raving tyrant.”

Tom offered his best eager expression, lounging back in his chair so that Harry’s eyes dropped to the long line of his legs. Mmm. That was definitely interest that Tom was seeing.

“Oh, you shouldn’t worry about that, Harry,” Tom said, smug. “I have the most wonderful feeling that you’ll fit in perfectly.”


	2. Tom vs. Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom Riddle versus allergies, take two.

“So let me get this right,” Lucius said, rubbing a hand over the left side of his face. “You don’t want to get rid of your new manager anymore. You want to fuck him.”

“That’s a crude way of putting it,” Tom said, affronted. “I don’t _just_ want to fuck him.”

“But what about the promotion you wanted?” Lucius asked, desperation leaking into his tone. “Doesn’t that matter anymore? You put all that effort into screwing Quirrell over. Which, I may add, was not a course of action I approved of to begin with.”

Tom shrugged. “There are other ways of securing a promotion that won’t involve getting Harry fired.”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s a reason why sleeping your way to the top actually works, Tom. And it’s not because all those people end up in happy, healthy relationships.”

“Relationship is debatable,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “I’ll have to see how I feel after I get to know him better.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Lucius said, “there is no way for me to change your mind at this point?”

“There is not.”

Lucius sighed. “Fine. What did you want my help with, then?”

Tom leant forward, oozing sincerity. “Well, you see, I wanted to know where you bought those flowers for Narcissa’s birthday last month. The arrangement was tasteful.”

“Tom,” said Lucius. “You’re _allergic_ to flowers.”

“And?”

Lucius held Tom’s gaze, then said, “Forget I said anything. Yes, I will forward you the information.”

Excellent. Now the only question left was whether red roses would be too overt or not.

* * *

Tom went in early the next morning, gloves on his hands and clothespin pinching his nose shut. He’d taken antihistamines this morning in preparation, but it never hurt to take extra precautions.

After picking the lock to Harry’s office, Tom set his bouquet of flowers carefully onto Harry’s desk. The desk was tidy, which was good, and there was only one framed photograph—Harry and his parents at some tropical locale.

Delivery was complete, Tom shed all the evidence into a garbage bag, checked his suit for pollen, and disposed of the waste into the trash bin in the lobby downstairs.

There was no card attached to his gift, which was deliberate. Harry liked to come in early, like some of the other workers did, which meant that the pool of potential gifters would be smaller, but it also meant that Tom’s presence would be duly noted.

Not that Tom was worried about his gift being attributed to anyone else. He was Harry’s assistant, meaning his desk was the closest to Harry’s office _and_ it had the best view of the door. Tom would decide how to proceed based on Harry’s reaction to the gift.

If Harry emerged looking pleased, then Tom would give the waters a test. If not, then he would simply have to try something else. Whatever it was that Harry liked, Tom would figure it out and deliver it into Harry’s unwitting hands.

This was a foolproof plan with little to no risk involved, which meant it was perfect.

* * *

Harry did not leave his office all day.

The staff were starting to talk. Tom, conversely, was starting to worry.

What possible reason could there be for this kind of behaviour? This was not one of the responses that Tom had expected and prepared for. What was he supposed to do with no reaction, no information?

As the end of the work day drew near, people began to get restless. When Quirrell had been manager, people had tended to stay until he left. But it was different with Harry. Harry encouraged people to leave on time, and he usually did so as well.

Except, of course, no one had seen Harry _all day._

Tom had texted Lucius with an update on the situation, asking for a second opinion.

_Maybe he’s allergic and you killed him_ 😂

Utterly unhelpful. Tom turned his ringer off and set his phone inside his desk so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at it.

Minutes passed. People began to pack their things. Tom had wrapped up everything ages ago and was trying not to stare at the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco sidle over to the elevators and vanish.

Five minutes after that, Harry’s office door cracked open a few centimeters.

“Um. I’ve just been rather busy today. But you all can go!”

Then the door shut itself again.

“You heard the boss man,” said male-Weasley. “Time for us to _go home,_ Hermione.”

“Yes, yes,” said Granger. “Just a few more minutes. Do you think I could go talk to Harry before we leave?”

Male-Weasley groaned. “He said he’s busy, Hermione. It can wait till tomorrow, yeah?”

Once they were gone, Tom was the only left in the area. He tidied up his desk, retrieved his phone, and shut his briefcase. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but it would be strange if Harry emerged to see Tom seated by himself.

With a sigh, Tom cast one final glance at the door. Then he stood and pulled his jacket on, buttoning the front of it.

It was then that Harry stumbled out of his office, his arms full of flowers.

“Oh, Tom! Hi. I didn’t realize, um, that anyone was still here.” Harry’s face was mostly obscured by the arrangement of red roses and white lilies he was carrying, but Tom could discern the hint of a dark flush that tinted Harry’s cheeks and neck.

“No worries,” Tom said. “Everyone else has left for the day. It’s just you and I.” He allowed his eyes to pause upon the flowers and waited for Harry to make note of the attention.

“Ah, right.” Harry adjusted his hold, shifting the bouquet to his right arm. “I found these in my office this morning. I’m not sure who sent them, actually.”

“They’re very beautiful,” Tom said, taking a few steps in Harry’s direction.

“They are,” Harry admitted. “Um. A bit awkward, though. I guess they’re from someone in the office? Which is not really appropriate? Because I’m the manager. So I didn’t want to show them around. But you’re right, they’re nice, and I’d feel bad that someone went to all this trouble only to think I didn’t appreciate it.”

Tom opened his mouth to say something.

And then he sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed again.

“Oh, shit!” Harry whirled away, shielding the bouquet with his body. “Are you allergic, Tom? I am so sorry. I’m just keeping you here, aren’t I? Let me just get out of your way, here—no, it’s okay, really. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Harry sprinted headlong for the lifts even as Tom tried to protest through his sneezing.

_Bloody fucking hell._

* * *

The next day, nothing happened. Harry greeted everyone like a friend, made his typical round amongst all the departments, and spent his lunch hour with his door wide open in case ‘anyone wanted to talk to him’.

Tom brooded. And when he wasn’t brooding, he pondered on what to do.

Harry was flattered by the flowers, but he did not seem interested in seeking out his secret admirer. He was concerned about the _appropriateness,_ of all things.

Perhaps more risk would be required. Besides, even if Harry was not currently interested in a relationship, any rejection would be polite and delivered with care.

The worst case scenario meant that Tom would need to apply more effort in convincing Harry to act on their mutual attraction. That was fine; Harry was a worthwhile challenge.

* * *

The _following_ morning, Harry called for a meeting.

“What do you think this is about?” asked girl-Weasley in a whisper.

“I haven’t the faintest,” Tom drawled. “Why don’t you attend the meeting and find out?”

That got him a glare in response. Tom knew she’d rather be in the cubicle next to Granger than him, but he didn’t particularly care to put up with the insanity of both of them together. The amount of distraction he suffered while he was stuck in between them was already bad enough.

“Hi, everyone!” Harry, his voice ever cheerful, was at the front of the room, He was chewing on his lower lip, his eyes darting around the seated employees.

A few workers chorused a ‘hello’ back, and Harry looked suitably reassured by this.

“So I wanted to talk to you all today about, um. Company policy.”

Oh, _come on._ If there had been an available flat surface to do so, Tom would have smacked his forehead on it.

“Relationships in the workplace, as of right now, are not permitted by HR. As decided by head office. That includes any form of relationship, ah, physical or not.” Harry ducked his head a bit, but then he straightened and added, “I know I could have probably sent a memo around for this. I just wanted to make sure that things are clear to everybody. Okay? Good. So that’s all I really wanted to say. Thank you to everyone for coming.”

Then Harry cleared his throat and added, “Theodore, if you could stay behind, I had some questions for you…”

People began to file out of the room.

“Wonder what brought that on,” Draco muttered.

“I bet someone tried to hit on him,” Pansy said knowingly. Then she turned to look at Tom. “You’re outside his office. Did you see anything?”

“No,” Tom said.

“Hmph.” Pansy frowned. “Maybe it was Weaselette. I saw her eyeing him the other day.”

Tom stopped listening, because listening was only going to irritate him.

Just behind them, Harry was talking to Theodore. And Harry was _laughing._ Laughing at something Theodore had said? What about the IT department could possibly be that funny?

  
Tom had already sent Harry flowers. He had been _first,_ and everyone else would simply have to find some other man to chase. Tom was going to win Harry over, company policy be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: tom and harry have a nice chat in harry's private office


	3. Meet and Greet and Not-So-Discreet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry have a nice chat about the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tom goes into this chapter with half a plan, and he finishes this meeting with a full one

Tom knocked on Harry’s office door.

“Come in!” Harry was seated at his desk, tie tugged loose, hair even more rumpled than usual. “Hey, Tom. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Harry never gave anyone less than his full attention. It was something Tom liked about him. Harry would stop whatever he was doing whenever anyone came by to talk, and he was unfailingly polite every time.

Tom sat down and smoothed his tie down. “This won’t take long, Harry. I just wanted to talk to you about my place at the company.”

“Oh? What did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Tom began, placing his clasped hands delicately on the edge of Harry’s desk. “It’s rather difficult to talk about some of it, so perhaps I’ll spare you all the sordid details.” He sighed, dropping his eyes, then glanced at Harry from beneath his lashes.

Harry’s brows pulled together. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But is there some problem going on here at work?”

“No, no,” Tom said quickly. “Nothing like that. I was referring to—well, it’s not that important. It’s just, you see, I’ve been with this company for seven years now. I started in sales, actually.”

“Oh, yes. I did know that.” Harry snapped his fingers. “Best sales person for three years running! And you were a new hire. Tom M. Riddle. I knew your name sounded familiar, so I made a point to look it up.”

Tom canted his head to the side, smiling. “I’m flattered you thought to remember me at all, Harry.”

“Ah, I did.” Harry gave a nervous chuckle. “But then they moved you to analytics, is that right?”

“I have a penchant for finding patterns,” Tom said. “Not many people like fiddling with data like I do. They fail to take in the larger picture.”

“From what I’ve seen, you do a great job,” Harry said. “And you were an assistant on top of that! You know, I used to work in analytics. Not in this branch, obviously. But I worked under a few different managers before I was promoted to management.”

McGonagall and Moody. Tom had done his research on Harry’s history with the company. “Very impressive,” Tom agreed.

“It’s not, really,” Harry said, waving it off. “We’re not here to talk about me! I’m sorry for interrupting. What were you saying before?”

Perfect. Tom leant in, loosened his shoulders considerably, and applied a look of innocence to his features. “I just worry, with my background being what it is, that my place in this company isn’t taken very seriously. Especially because I was Quirrell’s assistant. I think I could do better here if I had the position to do so—”

Tom paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. “I don’t mean to insinuate that _you_ don’t deserve your position, Harry. Because I respect you very much. I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting otherwise. But I do know our branch does not perform as well as the others.”

“That’s not your fault,” Harry said, sounding alarmed. “What happened to this branch was because of gross misconduct! And we may not know each other very well yet, Tom, but I can assure you that I really do want our branch to succeed.”

“I trust you,” Tom said, nodding. “I can tell you’re a good person, Harry.”

Harry smiled, shifting forwards, intent on reassuring Tom of invisible anxieties. “Maybe Quirrell took you for granted, but I don’t plan to do that. Once I’ve got my bearings here, then I promise there will be some changes. Good changes.”

“Good changes,” Tom repeated.

“Everyone will be treated fairly,” Harry said firmly. “Does this make you feel better? I want you to feel like your work here has purpose.”

“It does. You’re a wonderful listener,” Tom said earnestly. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.”

“Honestly, I’m really glad you feel comfortable enough to share these concerns with me,” Harry said. “So thank you for that. It’s always a bit bumpy when you suddenly have to start taking orders from someone new.”

“Oh, I don’t feel that way at all with you,” Tom said, lowering his voice. “I’m very comfortable in your presence, Harry.”

“Ah. That’s nice to hear.” Harry blinked, fidgeting in place. “Is that everything, then?”

“I should think so.” Tom stood up, body angled slightly over Harry’s desk. “Thank you again for listening to me.” And then he placed a careful hand on Harry’s, squeezing once.

Harry’s face flared with colour as Tom withdrew. “You’re welcome,” Harry squeaked.

Tom licked his lips, holding Harry’s gaze. “What _did_ you end up doing with those flowers?”

“They’re at my flat,” Harry said. “I put them in a vase.”

Tom purred inwardly with satisfaction as he imagined his gift on display in Harry’s home. “How lovely. And did you ever find out who had sent them?”

“No,” said Harry. “I didn’t.”

Tom made a non-committal sound. “I expect you have your fair share of suitors.”

“Not really.” Then Harry blanched, frowning. “I mean, that’s not really pertinent.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I didn’t mean to pry.” Was it not pertinent because Harry already had a significant other?

“It’s fine,” Harry said automatically. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Not a problem,” Tom said. “Consider it forgotten.”

Harry paused, then said, “So is that all?”

Hmm. Tom didn’t particularly want to leave just yet, but he didn’t have any valid reason to stay. “Did you want some coffee? I was just about to go make myself a cup.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Harry said. “Colin already brought me a cup this morning.”

Ah, yes. Colin the intern. Tom thought Colin was immensely irritating, but since everyone else got on with him, it would be difficult to get him fired.

Tom offered Harry a pleasant smile. “Not to worry, Harry. I think you and I will have an excellent time not only bringing this branch up to par, but also well above the average.”

Harry’s face lit up again. “Yes, exactly. Absolutely we will. Thanks, Tom.”

Tom gazed fondly at Harry, at the shine in his eyes and the gentleness of his grin. “You are very welcome.”

* * *

After leaving Harry’s office, Tom scanned the office space for the intern. Nowhere in sight. Useless. What was the point in an intern who was never around? Tom walked over to Granger’s desk and rapped on the side wall to get her attention.

“Granger,” Tom said. “Where’s the intern?”

“You mean Colin?” Granger asked, derisive. “He has a name, Riddle. You could try and use it.”

“Where is he?” Tom repeated.

Granger at last pulled away from her desk and turned to look at him. “I think Malfoy sent him out for his dry cleaning.” Her gaze was stony as they held eye contact, and then she went back to doing her work.

Draco was an idiot. Unfortunately, Tom could not say so in front of Granger. Lucius wouldn’t like that, and Draco was his ally in the office. Even if the only suitable position he was really good for was ‘henchman’, Tom wasn’t going to alienate him. It was important for them to maintain a united front in public.

“Fine,” Tom said. “Tell him I want to see him when he’s back.”

“I’m not your _secretary._ Tell him yourself.” If Granger had not been the professional sort, Tom suspected that she might have flipped him the bird.

* * *

“Intern!”

Creevy startled, neatly losing grip of the coffee tray he was holding. “Yes, sir? Mr. Riddle, sir?”

“Care to explain where you’ve been?” Tom demanded. It had been over an hour since his conversation with Granger. He would have to move all his plans until tomorrow because of this delay.

Creevy adjusted his hold on the coffee tray, hands trembling with nerves. “Um. Draco had me pick up his dry-cleaning? And then he asked me to get coffee for marketing. There was a line at the shop, and then—”

“Enough,” Tom said, irate. “I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses.”

Creevy’s mouth snapped shut.

Tom rubbed at his temple and took a calming breath. “I have some questions for you. Get rid of all that coffee to whoever it belongs to and meet me in Room B.”

“Will do!” Creevy saluted, which meant he was only holding the tray with one hand, which meant that it came perilously close to tipping over for the second time. 

“Just get it done,” Tom said wearily. He had less than fond memories of hot coffee spilling all over his trousers, and he did not feel like reliving them.

“Yes, sir,” Creevy said, making haste to leave.

It was a wonder anyone in this damn office got anything done when workers like Creevy were slashing the average productivity rates in half by simply existing. If Tom was head of this office, their branch would have been performing in the high positives.

Fine. It was fine. Harry was open-minded and willing to listen; Tom had already insinuated himself as a trusted confidant. No doubt Harry would take his suggestions seriously and implement them. The branch would succeed under their joint leadership, and then Tom could move up in that way, because Harry was honest would never try and steal all the glory for himself. In fact, Tom could imagine Harry going out of his way to put in a good word about him to corporate at head office.

That was a nice thought. Head office wasn’t too far away. Even if Tom did have to relocate, it would only be an hour’s drive to get there. And if he decided to keep Harry around, then they could spend weekends together. Or he could convince Harry to take another job that was closer, so that they both could move into one flat.

From what Tom had researched, Harry was well-educated and had been at this company for nearly fifteen years. Harry’s talents were being wasted here in management. He could do much better in a position with more independence and creative freedom.

“Tom? Hello?”

Tom blinked, pulled from his reverie. Girl-Weasley was waving her hand dangerously close to his face.

“God. I’ve been trying to get your attention for an entire minute now. Care to tell me why Colin says you’re hogging Meeting Room B? You _know_ that’s the only small room with a working projector. I need it to practice my presentation—”

“Take it,” Tom said, smacking her hand away. “I’ll move to Room C.”

“No, you—what? Huh?” Girl-Weasley stared at him, then said slowly, “Sure. Thanks, Riddle.”

She walked away, glancing back at him over her shoulder a few times, and Tom had the distinct feeling he was being _judged,_ only he didn’t know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tom, darling, please get your head out of the clouds. i am BEGGING. you haven't won your man just yet lskdjgksj stop fantasizing, it's embarrassing.
> 
> next up: harry jams the photocopier :)


	4. Advanced Flirting Techniques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom devises a way to spend more time together with Harry.

Tom strolled in the next morning with two cups of coffee. Both cups had been purchased at the coffee shop that Creevy said Harry preferred, and the drink was the one Harry ordered most often. Overall, Tom was assured it would be well-received.

Girl-Weasley was peering at him as he breezed right by their workstations. “He’s not in right now,” she said.

“Not in?” Tom said, freezing in place on his way to Harry’s office door. “Where is he?”

“He went to go use the photocopier,” she said. “Like, twenty minutes ago. Haven’t seen him since.” 

Then her eyes fixed upon the cups of coffee in his hands. Tom had avoided a tray because he wanted to hand deliver the cups, but he had unfortunately lacked the foresight to utilize paper sleeves. Therefore he was in a bit of a hurry to go.

“Is that for Harry?” she asked. “Did he ask you to bring him a cuppa?”

“No,” Tom said brusquely.

“Hmm.” Girl-Weasley scooted her chair back around the wall, and only then did it occur to Tom that ‘no’ had maybe not been the best answer to give her.

Whatever. He would go see if Harry was at the photocopier and deliver his offering there.

* * *

Harry was seated cross-legged on the floor, the photocopier’s guts on proud display. His tie had been pulled loose, and there was a distressed expression on his face.

“Hello,” Tom said, looking down.

“Ah,” Harry said, jumping. “Tom! Good morning.” He was already blushing. Had he been expecting Tom to come by?

Tom held out one of the coffees. The heat from them was starting to scald his hand. “This is for you, by the way.”

“Oh? You didn’t have to. I don’t really need it,” Harry said. He pushed a hand up underneath his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m trying to fix the photocopier right now.”

“Really,” Tom said. “I insist. You work so hard, this was the least I could do.” Then he eyed the copier. Why hadn’t Harry just gotten someone else to come fix this? It hardly made sense for Harry to labour away with this outdated piece of garbage disguised as a photocopier.

“You bought it for me?” Harry said, eyes focusing on the paper cup’s logo. “Oh, I like their coffee.” He smiled. “Thank you! Maybe you should set it aside for now, though. I’ll probably end up spilling it all over this stupid machine.”

Tom set both cups aside, glad for the excuse to put them down. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, squatting down next to Harry.

“Not sure, actually.” Harry turned to gaze forlornly at the photocopier. “It just… sort of happened? I don’t know what I did. I just wanted to make a copy of this one form, and then it tried to murder me.”

How adorable. Tom wanted to scoop Harry onto his lap and tell him that everything was going to be just fine. “I can help you fix it,” Tom said. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ve been told I have a gift for irritable technology.”

Harry laughed. “That’s great. Thanks, Tom. I could use the help, if you’ve got the time for it.”

Tom beamed. Yes,  _ he _ could make Harry laugh. It wasn’t a difficult task by any means, and if he tried, he could absolutely replicate it again. “I’d love to help.”

“Good thing I like to do this first thing in the morning, huh?” Harry asked rhetorically. “I mean, if we’re going with the hypothesis that this isn’t because the copier secretly hates me, then at least we’re fixing this before some other poor soul comes along with a stack of papers and thinks this machine is being possessed by a demon.”

Tom ducked his head down to see what Harry had been doing. Which did not look like much, thankfully. Too many people thought that they could poke around without seriously messing up the innards, and that was how the company ended up expensing yet another new used photocopier to replace their current used photocopier.

“You do your copies first thing in the morning?” Tom asked as he went to shut the copier down.

“Yeah. It’s a nice stretch of the legs before the work day really starts, you know? Especially after commuting in my car.”

Tom hummed, feigning casual interest. “How long is your commute?”

“Oh, it’s about an hour, which isn’t too bad. I live near head office.”

An hour was pretty bad for a small town like this. But this news was not bad news in regards to Tom’s future plans. “A nice place to live,” Tom agreed, squinting at the copier tray. Then he lifted his head up. “I think there’s a jam here.”

“Whoops,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s probably my bad, then. Strike out that demonic copier hypothesis and replace it with the ‘your boss is an accident-prone disaster’ hypothesis.”

“You’re hardly such a thing,” Tom chastised. “This machine simply is demonic, as you said. Perhaps it possessed  _ you, _ and that’s how it ended up jamming itself to begin with.”

“Very kind of you to say so,” Harry said. “But I am sticking to my guns. This always happened at my old branch, too. I think I must have been cursed in a past life.”

Tom yanked out the crinkled piece of paper that was causing the problem, then shoved the tray back in. “There. Let’s see if your luck has turned around, Harry. Give it a go.”

Tom switched the machine back on and straightened up.

Harry followed suit, scooping his form up from where it had rested on the floor and cradling it to his chest. “I think you should do it,” Harry said doubtfully. “What if it jams again?”

“Why don’t we do it together, then,” Tom said kindly. “And I’ll be your good luck charm.”

“Ah, okay. Why not?”

Tom reached for the other half of Harry’s paper, and they placed the form down on the scanner together. Then Harry reached for the top section to close it, and Tom moved his hand to intercept the motion, so that their hands bumped together.

“Oops,” Harry mumbled. “Sorry.”

Tom only smiled, shut the top of the copier, and hit the ‘copy’ button. After a mild wheeze of protest, the ancient machine spat out a replica of Harry’s form.

“Perfect,” Tom said, picking it up and presenting it. “And here you are.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Harry said, smiling. Then his eyes drifted to the two cups of coffee resting on the side table. “A lifesaver who has great taste in coffee,” he added.

Tom smiled back. “My pleasure,” he said. “If it happens again, please don’t hesitate to ask for my help.”

“I sure will,” Harry promised eagerly. “Thanks again for the coffee!”

* * *

Tom gave his name to the hostess at the front and was led to a table at the far right side of the restaurant. Lucius was already there, half-empty glass of ice water in hand while he flipped idly through a menu.

“New plan,” Tom said, shedding his coat and placing it over the back of a chair. “I’ve sabotaged the photocopier.”

Lucius did not look very happy to see him. “Damn it, Tom. Is that why you’re late?” he asked.

Tom sniffed and settled into his seat. “You haven’t been here that long. I’m hardly late.”

“Twenty minutes,” Lucius said, holding his arm up, displaying his wristwatch. “That’s late!”

“It’s fine. Anyways,” Tom continued, “I’ve sabotaged the photocopier, and next morning Harry will have to ask me to help fix it.”

Lucius mulled this over, drumming his fingers against the side of his drink. “And then you plan to ask him out?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tom said. “He’s my superior.”

Lucius’ response to this was stalled when the waitress came over to take their order. Tom sat patiently through the process as Lucius described the changes he wanted to his food. Once they were alone again, Tom cleared his throat expectantly.

“So you’ve decided not to pursue him?” Lucius clarified. “And the sabotage is an actual attempt at sabotage.”

Tom scowled. “Are you even listening to me, Lucius? I want him to ask  _ me _ out.”

If Harry was going to be such a stickler for policy, then Tom would abide by that and wait for Harry to decide to pursue him. Tom would exercise his usual charm in winning Harry over, and eventually it would be impossible for Harry to  _ not _ want to ask him out. Today had already been a good start in terms of making progress on that front.

“That’s very bold of you,” Lucius said, deadpan. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours because you’ll surely need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: deliberate encounters, heh


	5. Deliberate Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it water cooler talk if they're by the photocopier?

Tom arrived early the next day with two cups of coffee in a paper tray and settled at his desk to wait. When Harry came in to do his regular photocopies, he would find the machine unserviceable, and then he would come to Tom for help.

“Coffee again?” asked Girl-Weasley. She was peering around their shared wall, her eyes narrowed with interest.

“Yes,” Tom deadpanned. “It allows me to be productive, which is a habit you may wish to consider adopting.”

“Maybe drink some of your coffee, since you’re in such a strop.” Girl-Weasley rolled her eyes at him, then walked over to Granger’s cubicle. Tom guessed that the intention was for gossip, and decided to tune them out.

To prove his point about productivity, Tom switched his computer on and got to work looking through his email to pass the time. Whenever Harry finally came by, Tom would be the perfect image of a model employee.

Seven emails later, Tom glanced at the clock display. Fifteen minutes past the start of the workday. Harry had not arrived at the office yet; Tom would have noticed if he had. What was the cause of the delay?

Tom pushed back in his chair, eyeing the cup of coffee he had ordered especially for Harry. It was snug in its paper holder, but the longer it sat idle, the cooler it would get.

A few more minutes, then. If Harry did not appear by then, Tom would concoct an excuse to make his own photocopies.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Almost _fifteen minutes_ later, Tom was imagining scenarios in which the photocopier had turned into a demon and absconded with Harry into the underworld.

Granger stopped by his desk, a thin stack of paper in her hands. “Riddle, may I ask a favour?”

Tom allowed every bit of disdain he could muster to show on his face. “What is it?”

“As you know, I’ve had to rework the project timeline for the ERP system. I was wondering if you could bring a photocopy of this updated version of the charter to Malfoy. The last time I tried to get him to sign one, he ignored me for about three days, but this time it is actually very important that everyone involved reads the changes. I need it before the end of today. I know he’ll do it if it’s coming from you, which is why I’ve come to ask.”

Tom rubbed at his temple. Did everything Granger say have to come in paragraph form? Was there no simple way of framing such a request? “Fine,” he snapped. “Leave it here.” At least this had given him an excuse to go use the machine.

“Thank you, Riddle.” Granger dropped her charter on his desk, then departed.

Tom snatched the papers up along with his coffee tray and headed straight for the photocopier. If he heard Girl-Weasley snickering from her cubicle, he chose to ignore it.

* * *

Upon approaching the tiny room that housed the photocopier, Tom saw that yes, Harry _had_ chosen to come here first thing in the morning. However, Harry had decidedly _not_ chosen to go and seek out Tom’s help, as he had said he would.

“Harry?”

Harry jolted upright, nearly smacking his head against the copier. “Tom! Hello, good morning.”

Tom fixed Harry with a disapproving stare. “I told you that you could ask me for help.”

Harry scowled at the machine. “I know. But I can fix it myself, really. You don’t need to bother yourself with it.”

“Apparently I do.” Tom waved Granger’s stack of papers in the air. “I need a copy of this.”

“Ah,” Harry said. “Well, let me just… finish up here.”

Tom took pity on him. He set the papers aside and said, “I brought you coffee. Why don’t you enjoy that, and I’ll have a look?”

Harry hesitated, and so Tom raised a brow at him and held the tray out. “Cup on the left. It’ll be cold if you don’t.”

That did it. Harry did not want the offering to go unappreciated. He took the tray from Tom’s hands and retrieved the cup with his usual order labeled clearly on the side.

“I should pay you back for the coffee,” Harry said sheepishly. “Or maybe I can pay for tomorrow’s?” He turned the second cup around and squinted at Tom’s order. 

“That sounds like a wonderful arrangement.”

Harry sipped at his coffee while Tom put the copier back to rights. When it was done, Tom made a show of dusting his trousers off. “I think that will do it.”

“My hero,” Harry said jokingly.

“Oh, any time,” Tom murmured, stepping over to retrieve his own coffee, brushing past Harry as he did so.

Harry flushed and promptly shrunk back to make room for Tom to fiddle with the coffee tray. “Right.”

“You need only ask,” Tom continued, drawing his arm back and raising his cup to his lips. The coffee was mostly warm now, but that didn’t matter to Tom anymore. “I promise I am only too glad to assist you with whatever you may require.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said earnestly. “I just prefer to do things on my own, when I can. It’s not meant as an insult.”

Tom sighed loudly and placed a hand on Harry’s forearm. “Harry,” he said, in a gentle tone. “As your unofficial assistant, I will take it upon myself to fulfill _all_ your needs. Do not concern yourself with the monotonous day-to-day workings of this branch. I am very happy to manage the tedium of the photocopier on your behalf.”

Harry’s arm twitched but remained otherwise still. Tom could feel the flex of muscle beneath his fingers—firm and well-built. Rugby, Harry had mentioned. 

“I just wouldn’t want to, er, take advantage. Although you may be right about the copier.” Harry let out a nervous chuckle and gave the machine a pat. “I probably ought to let you handle it next time before it tries to eat me.”

The only one taking advantage here would be Tom. 

“Precisely,” Tom said, dragging his hand down Harry’s bicep before letting his arm fall away. “So you’ll come to me from now on if you need anything, is that right?” Tom smiled, widening his eyes ever so slightly, as though the answer to his question was a forgone conclusion.

Harry shifted his arm backwards, then moved it back to its previous resting position. The indecisiveness would have been adorable if it wasn’t such an unfortunate hindrance. “You can make your copies first,” Harry said hastily. “That’s Hermione’s project charter, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. She asked me to make a copy for Draco.”

“That’s nice of you! I know they don’t get along very well, though I’m not quite sure why.” Harry ruffled his hair with his free hand in a stressful motion. “Maybe I should talk to Pansy about that, see if she has any ideas.” Then he shook his head and set his coffee back down upon the table. “I shouldn’t be talking about this with you, really. Sorry about that. It’s not very appropriate of me, and I don’t want to cause you any difficulties.”

“I won’t say a word,” Tom promised. “You can trust me, Harry. Anything we do stays strictly between us.”

“Yeah.” Harry stared for a moment longer, hopefully turning the phrasing over in his head. Then he cleared his throat. “Um, yes. So go ahead and make your copies, don’t let me keep you here!”

Tom took his time duplicating Granger’s project charter. Once it was done, he stapled the new copy together and stacked it atop the original. He took his cup of coffee and dumped the empty cardboard tray into the paper recycling.

“Great,” Harry said. “I’ll just get to my own copies now. God knows they’ve been waiting long enough while I’ve been standing around and distracting you.”

“Do you have copies every morning?” Tom asked, just to keep the conversation going.

“Not always,” Harry admitted. “But there are some things that can’t just be dumped into an email. I like to keep paper copies of certain documents in my office for easy access.”

“I see.” That meant it was only pure luck that today had gone as it had. Tom made note to pay closer attention to Harry’s schedule.

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, seeming concerned by Tom’s blunt response. “I promise I’ll ask you for help if I need it, next time.”

“For anything,” Tom affirmed. “Not just the copier.”

Harry nodded. “Sure.” He paused, then, his hand resting against the open lid of the copier. “Thank you, by the way,” Harry said, offering up a shy smile. “It’s been really nice getting to know you. I’m a lot more comfortable here knowing that someone’s in my corner.”

Tom felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Of course, Harry. I know you’d do the same for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it's been a while! this story is still a thing that is happening. 
> 
> i hope you all like this chapter. i'm not sure when the next one will be, but it will come eventually. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	6. Set It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The office workers decide to take matters into their own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've seen the movie that this chapter is titled after, then you know what's coming

“That’s two cups of coffee every day this week,” Hermione said. “Every. Day. This. Week.” She tapped her finger on the table for emphasis.

“I dunno what he thinks he’s getting at.” Ron slouched down in the booth, folding his arms over his chest. “Harry’s a good bloke. He’s not about to fall for Riddle’s brownnosing.”

Ginny stirred her smoothie with its straw. “It’s not _brownnosing,_ Ron. I happen to think Riddle has a crush.”

“Gross.” Ron pulled a face. “On our boss? That’s just weird.”

“Hermione agrees with me!” Ginny added. “It’s the way they make eye-contact. And Riddle’s always ogling Harry when he thinks no one is looking.”

Ron’s face scrunched up further. “That’s disturbing, Gin. Don’t make me imagine that.”

“There’s a betting pool in Accounting,” continued Ginny, “and I’ve put twenty on them getting together before the end of the month. We are going to make this _happen.”_ She slapped her hand down on the table. Ron’s glass of ice water shook with the force of it.

“I thought you both hate him?” Ron glanced back and forth between Hermione and Ginny. “Why do you want to help him?

Ginny said, “Riddle just needs to get _laid_ _—”_

—the same time that Hermione said, “I think Harry might actually do him some good.”

Ginny waved an airy hand. “Same difference, Hermione. Riddle actually let me use the meeting room the other day. Didn’t even disparage my intelligence once! That’s how you know he has it bad.”

Ron was now looking thoughtful. “So the betting pool is in Accounting? That means Malfoy is in it, right? What’s he putting money on?”

“He thinks it’s not going to happen.” Ginny rolled her eyes for emphasis. 

“Alright,” Ron said, decisive, “then I’m in. Anything to cheat Malfoy out of a few extra pounds.”

“Petty,” Hermione said, “but as good a reason as any.”

Ron looked from Ginny to Hermione, seemingly unbothered by Hermione’s comment, and asked, “So what’s the plan?”

Hermione shifted back, leaning against the cushioned wall of the booth. “Well,” Hermione began, in a smug tone that indicated the cleverness of what she was about to suggest, “I was talking with Neville the other day about the possibility of fiddling with the lifts…”

* * *

Draco was led to the back corner of the restaurant, where his cousin Lucius was waiting for him. Straightening his tie and smoothing his lapels, Draco offered a brief wave as he approached. Lucius inclined his head in greeting and gestured for Draco to sit down across from him.

“Draco. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. How are things at Slytherin?”

“Hmm. Not so bad.”

Draco shifted on his seat, wondering what had prompted this sudden request for lunch. Normally, Draco didn’t come to such expensive places; he could hardly afford it on his basic accountant’s salary. 

Lucius, however, worked as a stock broker for one of the largest firms in London. Draco had dreams of working there someday. He had been dropping less-than-subtle hints around Lucius, hoping that his cousin would put in a good word for him. Maybe today was finally going to be that day!

Straightening, Draco ordered a glass of sauvignon blanc from the waitress when she came by, followed by apricot-glazed chicken with mushrooms and potatoes.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to meet for lunch,” Lucius said, once their food orders were put in. “After all, it isn’t our usual biweekly.”

Draco nodded, sure now that Lucius was about to tell him that there was a new opening at Slytherin, and wouldn’t Draco love to be the perfect person to fill that role?

“There’s a problem I’d like for you to help me with.”

“Absolutely,” Draco said immediately. “I can do it.”

Lucius seemed surprised at the enthusiasm. He paused and raised his brows ever so slightly.

“We’re cousins,” Draco said, feeling his face redden. “We’re family. Of course I’ll help you, Lucius.”

Lucius frowned but let the previous faux pas slide. “It’s about Tom. I’ve been… concerned about him, as of late.”

Tom Riddle? What on earth kind of problem could this be that had to do with Riddle and Slytherin? Draco opened his mouth to ask, but then Lucius resumed talking, and so Draco shut up. Lucius wouldn’t like being interrupted.

“He’s got his heart set on a rather disastrous course of action that I would like to avoid. For his own good, you understand. Only he refuses to listen to me.” Lucius sniffed in offense. “So I felt it would be best to enlist your help, seeing as the two of you work together. You’ll have ample opportunity to interfere.”

Draco was rapidly becoming confused but was too nervous to say so. Tom didn’t seem the kind of bloke who could even _make_ mistakes. Tom was like Granger—once he decided to do something, he succeeded, even if he was a complete and utter prat about it.

“What do you want me to interfere with?” Draco asked cautiously. He reached for his glass of wine to steady himself. It wouldn’t do to appear immature. Once he figured out what Lucius wanted, he would do it. Then Lucius would _owe_ him, and Draco could leverage this to get himself a position at Slytherin. 

“You see, Tom’s gotten it into his head that he can successfully seduce your new boss, Harry Potter.”

Draco spat his wine out on himself like a fool, coughing and spluttering.

_“What?!”_

* * *

The weekend, as it was, passed in a blur of clandestine meetings and convoluted romance plots.

On Monday morning, Tom Riddle stopped by Harry’s favourite coffee shop and purchased two cups of coffee. Hermione was there, and she began to ask him question after question on the ERP system she’d chosen for the company even though he had nothing to do with it.

Ron and Ginny Weasley had offered to carpool with Harry to work, and Harry, despite finding the offer a bit odd, had been too awkward to say no. Ginny drove, and Ron, aside from keeping up his side of the casual conversation, kept a close eye on the clock.

* * *

As expected, the moment Tom laid eyes on Harry, he abandoned Hermione in favour of walking straight over and offering the second cup of coffee in his tray.

The brilliant, dazzling smile on Tom’s face was almost adorable.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione made their way straight towards the stairs without a second glance, trusting that Peter Pettigrew, who worked maintenance for the building, would do his job properly.

* * *

Harry and Tom made their way into the lift. Tom slowed his steps enough to let Harry enter first, then cast a suspicious eye around the empty lobby.

Where had the Weasleys gone? And Granger? Tom could have sworn they had been here moments ago.

“Did you have a nice weekend?”

Tom hit the button for the lift doors to close, then hit the floor number for their office.

“Yes. A very nice one, in fact. Did you?”

Harry’s face lit up. “Yeah, actually! I met up with some of my mates—Dean and Seamus—and we went to go see a movie—”

Tom listened, nodding and smiling, then found himself actually interested as Harry began to narrate the parts of the movie he found irritating and illogical. This should not have been so surprising; after all, Tom already found Harry to be very interesting, and so it only reasoned that the more time he spent with Harry, the more interesting Harry would become to him.

This pleasant thought was cut off by the loud shriek of the lift coming to a dead halt.

“What was that?” Harry asked, bewildered. “We’ve stopped moving.”

Tom reached for the door button, pressing it a few times. That did nothing, so he switched to pressing down on the call button.

“Hello?” Tom called, straining his ears for a response.

Nothing but static.

“This is ridiculous,” Tom said scathingly. “I’ve always said the building maintenance here is rubbish.”

As if in response to his insult, the lights above them flickered ominously.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Harry said, sounding unsure. “Let me call someone upstairs and see if they can figure out what’s going on.”

“I can do it,” Tom said, snappish. Then he took a deep breath, smoothing his tone as he added, “Don’t worry about this, Harry. I’ll get us out of here.”

Harry blinked doubtfully. “Alright. You’re not—” Harry paused, seeming to think about his phrasing, then continued, “—not claustrophobic, are you?”

“What? Why would I be?”

“You just seem a bit frazzled, is all,” Harry said.

Tom retrieved his mobile from his coat and dialed a number. The phone rang once, then was picked up straight away.

“Draco,” said Tom, without any introduction. “Harry and I are trapped in the lift of the building. Find out what is going on and get us out of here.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the call, and then a sudden intake of breath.

_“Yes, right away,”_ Draco said quickly. _“I’m on it.”_ And then the line went dead.

Tom put his mobile away. “He says he’s on it,” he informed Harry.

“Right.” Harry glanced around at their enclosed space. “Could have been worse, I guess,” he joked. “We could be sitting here in the dark.”

Tom thought about that. It _could_ have been worse. He could have been trapped in here with Granger. Or, god forbid, the girl Weasley. That would have been a nightmare of a situation.

Being trapped in here with Harry was the best possible outcome. It was even better in that it afforded them some extra time together.

Situation now reassessed, Tom smothered his previous irritation at the inconvenience. None of his time would be wasted while Harry was around. “Since we’re here,” Tom said, “why don’t we continue our previous conversation?”

Those lovely eyes lit up again. “Okay,” Harry said. “If you’re sure I’m not boring you or anything.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t think you ever could bore me.” Tom took a step closer and leant in, conspiratorial. “I find you very… intriguing. All that you say is rather compelling.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Harry laughed, a soft, almost nervous sound, and offered Tom a small smile. “So, ah, where was I?”

Harry continued with his analysis of the movie, and Tom sipped at his coffee, letting his gaze linger on Harry’s lips, on Harry’s extensive hand gestures as he spoke.

If Harry noticed the heated edge to the attention bestowed upon him, he did an admirable job of disguising it, for there was little evidence save for the faint flush of colour across Harry’s cheeks.

After some time of this, the lift finally moved, up and up, all the way to the correct floor. The doors opened, revealing the pale, sweating face of Draco Malfoy.

“Mr. Potter,” said Draco, in urgent tones that suggested utter disaster was imminent. “There’s something I need you to help me with _right now.”_

And then Draco seized Harry by the arm and dragged him away, leaving Tom standing, alone, just in front of the elevator, half-empty coffee cup in hand.


	7. Live-Action Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's gotten himself into some trouble with Tom.

The excitement of the morning dwindled rapidly into monotony. Tom sat idly in his cubicle, torn between his work and his preoccupations. But work could not hold his attention, not when Harry had yet to set foot near his office. Had yet to set foot near _Tom._

What on earth was going on in this place? Each time Harry drew near, inevitably another 'emergency' would pull him away to another department. Tom was beginning to have his suspicions, only he could not quite pinpoint who was at fault, or why they were interfering so heavily.

First it had been Draco, then Pansy, then Draco _again,_ and then Daphne. Were they conspiring together? To what end? Tom had considered the accounting and marketing departments to be his allies in the workplace. Draco was particularly malleable and eager to please if he was offered the right sort of incentive.

Perhaps his mistake had been to disguise his true intentions. It was not their fault that he had kept his plans to woo Harry under wraps. This would need to be rectified now, of course. It wouldn't do for Harry to be kept excessively busy. Excessive stress was harmful.

Tom tapped his pen on his desk. What he needed was an excuse to walk over to accounting or marketing and find out what was going on. If he could solve whatever this 'emergency' problem was, then Harry would be free from his managerial duties. Harry may even be grateful to Tom for sparing him the stress of dealing with it.

"Harry's been busy all morning!"

Tom's ears perked up. He spun his chair in the direction of the sound. Weasley was talking to Granger again. Maybe they would have some useful information, gossiping hens that they were.

"Well," said Granger, "there's nothing _we_ can do about it. It's nothing to do with us."

Girl-Weasley made a noise of distaste. "Pansy said that Malfoy offered to buy her lunch if she helped keep Harry busy."

Tom's pen clattered onto the desk.

Right. It was high time to visit accounting. Tom snatched a folder at random up off his desk and stood up.

The walk was brief, and once he arrived, he saw that both Harry and Draco were hunched over stacks of printed reports. Though there was a respectable amount of distance between them, the sight of it was enough to make Tom see red.

"Harry, Draco," he greeted. "What seems to be the issue here?"

Draco bolted upright, hand moving to adjust his tie, the picture perfect image of a child with its hand caught in the cookie jar. "Nothing, Tom. Just some... discrepancies in the reports. I felt it, ah, prudent to show these to Mr. Potter as soon as I noticed them."

"There's a _lot_ of paper," Harry joked. He removed his hand from where it was braced on the table and smiled. "Did you need something, Tom?"

"I need to borrow Draco for a moment, if that's alright."

"I don't think—wait. What?" Draco blinked in surprise. "You want to talk to _me?"_

Tom grinned, shark-like. "Only a few minutes of your time, Draco. Then I promise I'll allow you to return your attention to this..." Tom allowed his gaze to drag slowly over the stacks of paper. _"Emergency."_

Draco coughed and tugged at his shirt collar. "Can it... can it wait? We're a little, ah, busy. At the moment."

Harry gazed between the two of them, expression now curious. "Nothing that can't wait, Draco. What're you after, Tom? Can I help?"

Tom still had his random folder wedged under his arm, but now that he was staring Draco down, the excuse no longer seemed quite enough.

"It's your cousin, Draco," Tom lied easily. "He said you weren't checking your phone, so he called me instead. Something about Slytherin...? One of his coworkers has been caught up in some scandal. He made it sound very important."

Tom was betting on the fact that Draco had been so distracted all morning that he'd forgotten to check his phone. He was also betting on the fact that the mere mention of Lucius and Slytherin would send Draco into further distraction.

"What?" Draco's jaw dropped. Then he glanced at Harry, who now had both brows raised. "Um. What else did Lucius say? Did he say I should call him? I can go do that right now—" Draco flushed, then looked at Harry again. "Can I? Just—he's my cousin," Draco added hastily. "If he's in trouble, then I need to help him."

It was almost _too_ easy. "He gave me a few more details," Tom continued. "But they're rather sensitive. He is quite busy with the fallout at the moment, but I can tell you what he told me, and then you can decide if you ought to call him back or not."

"Go ahead," Harry said, gesturing. "You said it won't be long, and this can wait. I'm sure I'll still be wading through all this once you're back."

Tom smiled at Harry, then walked off, knowing Draco would follow.

* * *

"So what is it? What happened to his coworker?" Draco lowered his voice, then added, "Did he do something? Did _you_ do something? Lucius told me—"

"Shut up," Tom said. They entered an empty meeting room, and Tom shut the door behind them.

Draco scowled. "Come on, Tom. You know this is important to me. Not all of us want to stay with this bloody company forever, you know."

"I made that up," Tom said flatly. "There is nothing going on with Lucius or his workplace. I needed an excuse to get you away from Harry."

"What?" Draco's eyes widened almost comically. "What the hell, Tom! That's not alright! I've been looking forward to that—"

"What are you doing with Harry?" Tom demanded, stalking forward. "Why have you been keeping him busy all morning? Surely you aren't so incompetent at your job that you require a babysitter at all hours of the day."

Draco spluttered. "I'm not doing anything! I swear. There's just all these reports that need looking at." He was looking anywhere but at Tom as he said this.

"Lucius needs to teach you to lie better," Tom said scathingly. "What is going on, Draco? This is your last chance to tell me. Or would you like to go the same way Quirrell did? I could make it happen, you know. It's almost laughably easy."

Draco shook his head rapidly.

"I imagine it'd be quite difficult for you to get a job at Slytherin if you were outed for embezzlement. Perhaps I could even implicate you as an associate of Quirrell's. Wouldn't that be delightful?" Tom hummed pleasantly. "Quirrell's court case is in three months, wouldn't you know. How satisfying it would be to see the both of you in court together."

"I'm not—I don't—" Draco struggled for words, backing away from Tom until he bumped into a chair. "It's Lucius! He asked me to do this. He told me you were trying to seduce Potter and that I had to stop you before you got yourself into trouble!"

"So really," Draco added, "I'm trying to _help_ you!"

“Well, _don't,"_ Tom said, menace leaking into his voice. "Don't do anything but exit this room and tell Harry you've figured out how to sort this problem on your own, that it was all a mistake, whatever it takes. If I catch you interfering in any of my affairs again, I won't be so kind as to offer you a warning, do you understand?"

"Yes," Draco said, swallowing. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Good." Tom leant back and regarded Draco with a neutral eye. "I'll be sure to speak kindly of you when I talk to Lucius about this."

Draco's relief was palpable. "Thank you."

"Thank me once you've done as I asked," Tom advised.

"I'll go right now." Draco moved towards the door, then paused. "Um."

Tom raised a brow. "Yes?"

"Since I already went through the trouble of making up an issue, I could—I could maybe figure out a way for him to work on it with you?"

Tom held the surprise back from his face. Draco wasn’t completely hopeless after all. When it came to self-preservation, he was remarkably capable of quick thinking. "That would be acceptable."

"Excellent. Really great. So I'll do that," Draco said, sounding hopeful, "and when you go and talk to Lucius... maybe you can wait a while before you do that?"

Tom sighed. He sighed aloud so Draco knew how much of a bother this was, and then he said, "I suppose. Why don't you start by telling me what you've been up to all morning?"

Draco nodded. "Right. Okay, so, first thing was I drew up all the monthly statements from when Quirrell was still the manager here—"

* * *

Ginny turned the corner, striding quickly and with purpose. Hermione looked up as she approached, quickly setting aside her day planner so as to give Ginny her full attention.

"Did it work? What happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly what happened. Riddle and Malfoy went off for a while, and when they came back, Malfoy just handed off the entire thing right to Riddle. Now Harry and Riddle are working on whatever it is together in the accounting department."

Hermione made a thoughtful sound. "That's good, then, isn't it? I'm surprised it went over so well. Riddle must have been very convincing."

"I'm wondering what blackmail Riddle has over him," Ginny said, snorting. "I'd kill to know what it is."

"I want to know why he felt such a need to interfere in the first place. Surely winning a bet doesn't matter _that_ much to him. He must have spent more money paying for Pansy and Daphne's lunch than he'll win from the betting pool."

"Eh," Ginny said. "Does it matter? Maybe he's just trying to win the bet for bragging rights."

Hermione pressed her lips together, unconvinced. "Maybe."

Ginny was about to respond when she heard the dulcet tones of Riddle's voice floating towards them.

"They're back!" she hissed to Hermione, then scampered back to her desk. In the distance, Riddle and Harry were walking side by side, engrossed in some paper files.

Ginny listened intently as they passed closer, waiting to see if any juice tidbits of information would slip out. The two men were standing... rather close together. Or was that her imagination? She didn't think Riddle was the sort to hesitate, but then again this was quite the spectacular situation. Harry was their manager.

"Hmm," said Riddle. He pulled the files out of Harry's hands, then glanced casually across the room at the large clock nailed to the far wall and did a mild double take. The wide-eyed look on his face was almost convincing, Ginny thought snidely.

"Would you look at that," Riddle commented, "we've gone past lunch hour. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to keep you so long."

"Oh, it's alright." Harry seemed flustered. "This was important, and I'm glad you had the time to go over it with me."

"You must be hungry," Riddle said smoothly, like Harry had not spoken at all. "How about we take a late lunch? My treat, so I can make it up to you."

"You don't need to do that," Harry said hastily.

"Oh, but I _insist."_ Riddle's smile was ridiculously sweet. Ginny thought that even she would have had a hard time saying no.

Harry lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "You've already been paying for coffee. I feel like I should be buying you lunch."

"What's a little back and forth between colleagues?" Riddle asked. "You can grab the next one, Harry."

Harry laughed a little. "That's what you said about the coffee."

Riddle's charming smile split into a wide grin. "Did I? I'm afraid I can't quite recall."

Did these two not realize they were standing right in front of Harry's office door, where anyone could hear them? Or were they so caught up in each other that everything else was background noise? Ginny had never imagined their dingy little office space as a fertile ground for _romance,_ but the scene playing out in front of her had to be taken directly from a Hallmark movie.

"Lunch this once," Harry said at last. "And you best let me get the coffee tomorrow."

"Can't say I won't try otherwise." Riddle took a half-step into Harry's office, tossing the folder he'd been holding onto the desk. "Do you need anything in here?"

"No, I've got all I need."

Riddle shut the door with a click. "Then let's depart."

They went for the lifts. Riddle slowed his steps until he was almost half a step behind Harry, and then he raised his hand halfway up, like he was deciding whether to place it on Harry's back. Ginny muffled a giggle with her hand.

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered through the wall. "I can't see anything."

Ginny waited until both men were out of sight before she slid her chair around the cubicle wall, passing Riddle's empty cubicle on her way to Hermione's. When she finally came to a halt, she braced both hands on her knees and exclaimed, "They're going on a date!"

"I heard that part," Hermione said irritably, but she was smiling. "What were they doing?"

"Well, Riddle was all—" Ginny batted her lashes and adopted a dopey smile. "—but as they were leaving he looked like he was going to touch Harry's back."

"That's almost sweet," Hermione mused. "What do you think will happen?"

"I think," Ginny said, "that if they don't kiss by the end of the next week I'll riot."

"You are _far_ too invested in this."

"I am only giving the people what they want, Hermione. You can't fault me for having taste."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy more content! hope you're all doing swell. comments and thoughts are appreciated!
> 
> * * *
> 
> for your consideration:
> 
> **Come join 'The Room of Requirement', a community Discord server for fans of the Harry/Tom | Voldemort ship (and characters). The server is 16+ and can be found[HERE](https://discord.gg/2suak9y)!**


	8. Moral Scruples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom have lunch, but not dinner.

Lunch went splendidly. Tom took Harry to his favourite restaurant a block down the street. There was a bit of fussing over the menu selection—Harry was hesitant to pick anything too costly, lovely man—which resulted in Tom ordering for them both. This was the preferred result because Tom knew what dishes were best, and now that they had spent some time together, he had an idea of what Harry would enjoy the most.

When the meal was done and paid for, Harry took out his phone to glance at the clock.

“Christ, we went well over.” Harry grimaced. “I should have kept a better eye on the time.”

“No one will notice,” Tom said cheerfully. Truthfully, he was delighted to have kept Harry’s attention so thoroughly occupied. “We’ve had a busy morning, Harry. No one will fault us.”

“Maybe. I still feel a bit bad, though.” Harry sighed, then tried and failed to surreptitiously glance at the bill. “Usually I don’t dine out like this for lunch because it takes up a lot of time.”

“Certainly I don’t make a habit of it,” Tom agreed, folding his copy of the receipt up and tucking it into his wallet. “But I can always be persuaded to make exceptions.”

Harry let out a half-laugh that was far more nervous than it had any right to sound. “All things in moderation,” he agreed. “Shall we head back? I wish I’d taken my car so we didn’t have to walk. Ron and Ginny were insistent about the carpool. Global warming and, er, my car not having Bluetooth installed being a crime?”

Tom had driven to work. He had encouraged them to walk so he could monopolize their time together. “Next time I’ll drive us, then.”

“Next time,” Harry repeated distantly. Then his brows furrowed. “Well, next time I’m paying.”

“Of course,” Tom said smoothly, standing up and pulling his coat on. “To be fair.”

“Right.” Harry stumbled to his feet, shoving his chair back with an awkward motion. “You’ve really got me digging a hole for myself with all this coffee.”

Tom flashed a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Harry.”

Harry squinted at him. Tom took the opportunity to gather Harry’s coat into his hands and hold it out.

“I mean,” Harry said, not moving, “it doesn’t feel very… reciprocal when you’re the one always paying for coffee. And it’s not like I need to buy coffee every morning. The stuff at the office is alright. Which isn’t to say I don’t appreciate it!” Harry added hastily. “Because it’s very nice of you. But you know that you’re not really my assistant, right? You don’t have to fetch me coffee or anything.”

“I am very much aware of that,” Tom said smoothly, choosing to gloss over the rest of Harry’s statement, “And I agree: I am much more than your assistant.”

“Yes, so…” Harry trailed off, perplexed by Tom’s response.

Tom gave Harry’s coat a shake and raised an expectant brow. Face flushing, Harry stuck his arms into the sleeves and allowed Tom to adjust the collar.

“There,” Tom declared, “perfect.”

Harry’s flush darkened further. “Thanks. Um. I can put my own coat on?”

“Obviously.” Tom kept a deliberately neutral expression on his face and stared into Harry’s eyes.

Harry coughed. “Right, let’s head back.”

* * *

When they arrived back at the office, a few things became clear. Firstly, their absence had most definitely been noted by their co-workers. Secondly, Tom worked with a bunch of gossiping ninnies. Ginny was holed up in Granger’s cubicle again, muttering in undertone. As Tom and Harry passed them by, the two women smiled in a synchronized way that only raised suspicion in Tom’s eyes.

“Back to the grind,” Harry joked as they returned to their stack of accounting files. “Ah, this is important stuff, though.” He lowered his voice slightly and added to Tom, “Keeps me up at night wondering if there’s something I’ve missed that could be blamed on someone who doesn’t deserve it. Suppose I’ll feel better once the court case is settled, though that’s not for some time.”

Tom wished he could reassure Harry that everything was fine. Quirrell’s downfall had been orchestrated, for one, and for another, today’s ‘emergency’ had been designed by  _ Draco Malfoy. _ It was hardly the cleverest manipulation, and if not for the fact that Tom was dragging this out, the problem could be solved before the end of the day.

Although, considering lunch had gone so well, perhaps that was no longer necessary.

“Harry,” Tom began kindly, “I know you haven’t been here very long, so I hope it reassures you when I say Draco was exaggerating as to the importance of these errors. Really they are rather minor, and I have confidence we will be able to set everything to rights before the day is out.”

“Oh?” Harry smiled. “That does make me feel better. You have been here longer than I have, so I’ll definitely take your word for it. Thanks, Tom.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Tom and Harry identified the source of the inconsistencies—a few minor errors in maths and an incorrect cost allocation—before making the corrections. When it was settled, Harry seemed very relieved. Prior to today, Tom had not given much thought to how this branch looked to an outsider. Unfavourable, but not something to worry about personally.

But for Harry, fear of further embezzlement or other such crimes being uncovered was very real. Another fatal error like that could result in terminations and transfers. This branch would have a difficult time recovering from the loss of yet another manager. If Tom had become the manager here as planned, this branch would have been performing in the top percentile. 

Though the employees here were ridiculous at times, Tom had to admit they worked well together. If the dynamic was disrupted, it would be a shame. The workers here were intelligent and hardworking—they simply lacked direction and initiative. Harry was doing an admirable job with pulling them all together, but he was not as ambitious as Tom was, and he lacked the knowledge of Quirrell’s failures. 

Tom knew all, saw all, and understood this particular branch better than anyone else did. Together with Harry, he would see this place succeed.

* * *

At the end of the work day, Tom braced himself against the edge of Harry’s desk while Harry tapped out an email to his superiors outlining the issues that been uncovered and fixed today.

Accountability was important to Harry. He was noble enough to right the wrongs he believed had been committed against the employees here. It was sweet that Harry was so worried about them all. Harry didn’t want them to get in trouble and was willing to stick his neck out to help them.

“How does this look?” Harry asked, shifting backwards in his chair and tilting his screen in Tom’s direction. “Am I missing anything?”

Tom skimmed the email over. All the relevant details were there, and— “You mentioned me?”

Harry frowned. “Yeah, absolutely. You really helped me today. And Draco did too, but since he was the one who made the mistake in the first place I felt like it was better to leave him out of it.”

Tom snorted. “Well, thank you.”

“I did mean it when I said I want you to be recognized for your accomplishments.”

Harry was far too kind. Tom slid closer, drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk. “I appreciate that you put actions to words.”

“I’d be a horrible manager if I didn’t,” Harry joked. His eyes flickered to Tom’s hand, then back up to his face.

Harry’s jovial attitude was not enough of a deterrent; Tom would not be put off. He was determined, ambitious, and unwilling to concede to Harry’s bashfulness. “Send the email off,” Tom said lightly, and then proceeded to watch as Harry did so.

“All done,” Harry said proudly, clicking ‘send’ with an exaggerated tap of his index finger. “And now we’re free for today.”

“Free for dinner?” Tom asked innocently.

“Ah, well—” Harry fumbled with shutting his computer off, then gazed awkwardly at the dark screen. “The Weasleys are going to drop me off at home. I have leftover lasagna from the night before.”

“Hardly a way to end such a stressful day,” Tom mused. “Leftovers alone at home. I’m certain they won’t mind if I whisk you away to supper.”

“We already did lunch,” Harry argued weakly. He seemed torn, which was not quite the reaction Tom wanted—outright enthusiasm was preferable, of course—but it was clear to him that Harry would  _ like _ to say yes. It was proprietary that held him back.

“You can pay for supper, if you like.”

“That’s…” Harry trailed off. Then he looked back up. “Lunch is one thing, Tom. People grab lunch together all the time here, and at my old branch. But I don’t—I don’t think it’s very appropriate for us to have dinner together. If it was a group function or something, maybe. But this is a bit weird, isn’t it? Like, er, not like we’re going out on dates or anything, but people might think—”

“Are we not above what others think of us?” Tom interjected.

Harry stood up. “That’s not exactly what I mean, and you know it.”

Tom bristled. This was no longer what he wanted. Harry was rejecting him—not because he found Tom unattractive, but because Harry had moral qualms. 

Perhaps Tom had pushed too far, too soon. Harry was not ready to cross the line, and now Tom’s chance might have been ruined for the foreseeable future. Tom knew that Harry would prove to be stubborn, would hold firm ground even in the face of Tom’s advances.

“Dinner between friends,” Tom tried.

Harry faltered, hands falling to his sides. Then he reached for his coat and tugged it on. “Maybe some other time,” Harry allowed. “But not tonight, Tom. Thank you for offering.”

Tom stepped back and let Harry leave the office, but inwardly he was… disappointed. Not seething the way he might have expected himself to feel. Honest to goodness disappointment that Harry had turned him down.

After a respectable few seconds had passed, Tom took his leave of Harry’s office. He packed his things up in his cubicle and ignored Granger and girl-Weasley’s questions. The rest of his evening would be spent plotting ways to convince Harry to forgo company policy once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still a thing that is happening and being written and maybe, even, possibly finished? i was struck by a mood to write this chapter, so i reread the entire series and got myself back into the groove. hope you all enjoy!


	9. All Bets Are Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom forms a new plan, then suffers the consequences of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh so i finished this today and decided to just post it rather than wait longer

“I have no idea why we have these conversations if you only intend to shoot down all my ideas.”

“Your ideas are not amenable to my goals,” Tom said flatly.

Lucius sighed. “Your goals are _concerning,_ which is why I felt the need to intervene to begin with.”

“Intervene poorly, I may add,” Tom said, raising a brow. “Draco? Really? You could do better.”

“Options were limited,” Lucius allowed. “And it worked for some time, based on what you told me. I can’t say I expected poor Draco to derail you forever. You’re far too persistent for that.”

Tom smirked and took a sip of his wine. They were on the balcony of Lucius’ flat, having a Saturday night drink together. “You know I’ll succeed. Your concern is noted, and appreciated, but unnecessary. There is nothing about this situation that could go wrong. If anything, Lucius, this is far safer than my attempts to climb the corporate ladder.”

“You say Harry is interested in you?”

“I know he is.”

“Then, I don’t know, quit your job. Or threaten to quit your job. God knows you can do better than that firm, Tom. I’ve said it a thousand times. There’s a place for you with me, if you want. Draco keeps asking, dropping hints, but he wouldn’t last a week there. You, though—” Lucius nodded. “You would thrive, Tom. You’ve got the intelligence and the ambition to go almost anywhere. We’re young, we have time. Why do you stay where you are?”

It was hard to explain. Tom had been with Hogwarts since the early days, back when Dippet had been CEO. Nowadays, the company was less aggressive than Tom would have liked or thought wise, but he had faith it could pull ahead. It just needed the right guidance. The right leader.

“It’s a good company,” Tom said slowly. “Stability is hard to come by. I have excellent benefits and regular raises. Other firms can’t offer what I want so easily. Hogwarts has… potential. I want to see it through.”

“You’re a far better man than you let on,” Lucius grumbled. “I couldn’t imagine working there and not losing my mind. The redundancy of the operational processes alone is enough to age me several decades.”

“It will improve with time and the correct leadership,” Tom said dismissively. “But to return to your point: you advise me against courting my superior, and now you tell me to _quit my job?_ Hardly good advice.”

“You’ve already gone to such extremes, Tom. What’s one more? If it sets you on a different path, then I’ll agree to it. Your potential is wasted there.”

Tom thought of what Harry had said to him—that his accomplishments would be recognized, that his efforts would be rewarded. 

Part of the reason Tom had stayed for so long was because Hogwarts had taken a chance on a scruffy orphan with lackluster connections and lower-class schooling. Tom had grown and flourished here, setting his roots down. It would be shameful to throw it all away, not when he knew that this company had just as much potential as he did to become something better.

“I don’t need to leave my job to convince Harry to date me. He’ll see that his protests are weak.”

Lucius shook his head. “Are they? Could you honestly tell me you won’t leverage a relationship for your own ends?”

“That’s only natural.” Tom mulled it over. “Besides, it would not be only for myself. It would be for the both of us. Eventually I’ll move to head office, and then there will be no conflict of interest.”

“I love how you’ve planned your lives out already. It’s endearing.”

* * *

The rest of the weekend was spent poorly. Tom was frustrated with himself; it seemed whenever he attempted to concoct a plan to win Harry over, he was confronted with an irritatingly accurate mental model of Harry’s voice in his head, stating very clearly that workplace relationships were frowned upon.

Goddamn morality. Tom didn’t give one whit what anyone in the workplace thought about them, and if anyone dared to try anything, he would blackmail them. After years spent toiling away at the same branch, Tom had enough information to topple the entire place from the inside. He simply chose not to because he enjoyed the relative workings of his current environment. 

But make no mistake, the minute anyone set a foot out of line, there would be hell to pay. Draco had escaped unscathed after no small amount of grovelling, and Tom would not hesitate to treat anyone else the same way.

Possible consequences aside, the original issue remained. How to convince Harry that dating would be fine—preferable, even. Tom had plenty to offer; he was handsome and intelligent, he owned his own flat and worked in a stable sector of the economy. He had impeccable tastes and was willing to educate himself on whatever interested Harry in order to make conversation easier. And he was a younger man, if that was the type of thing that mattered to Harry.

It seemed ridiculous to let something like company policy stand in the way.

Oh, hm. There was a thought. Perhaps it was not the policy itself that was the issue—rather, it was the location. Harry would not feel comfortable engaging in romantic activity where there were witnesses. To Harry, the office was a place of variables. Too many watchful eyes. In this context, it was understandable to be hesitant. After all, one wrong word to the wrong ear could result in disaster. 

What Harry did not know and Tom did, was that the denizens of the office were well under control. Even if Tom was not well-liked by all, he was respected. And with that respect—and blackmail—came compliance.

Tom would need to arrange to meet Harry outside of office hours. That was all. He would corner the man in a different public setting, and then Harry would be in no place to refuse him. No risk, no cause for concern. 

Only Tom’s practical timing and sense of dramatics, planned to the nines. Casual clothing that would dissociate the clandestine meeting from their interactions at the office. Perhaps he’d even style his hair slightly different—just for the variety. A different cologne, even. 

Tom’s mind was awhirl with the possibilities. At last, a plausible solution for his problem and an explanation for Harry’s behaviour. Perfect. He’d have to do some more research—where did Harry live, exactly? What places did he frequent? Then once that was done, he’d have to arrange some excuse.

It would take some time to organize this, which was perhaps for the best. Harry would relax once more in Tom’s presence, convinced that his words had been taken to heart. When they ran into each other, he would not suspect Tom of manipulation.

In the meantime, however, Tom would resume his friendly behaviour. Coffee in the mornings, the occasional lunch date if Harry seemed amenable, and natural instances of physical contact. It wouldn’t do for Harry to think he’d lost interest.

* * *

“You’re in a cheerful mood this morning.”

Tom offered Granger a benevolent smile. He had just delivered Harry’s morning coffee with nothing other than a pleasant greeting and an offer of aid if necessary. 

Harry had been surprised, having clearly expected Tom to once again test the boundaries of their relationship. He had thanked Tom for the coffee, blushed when their fingers had touched, and promised he would ask for help if required.

All in all, Tom considered Monday morning to be a success. “Is it illegal to be cheerful on a Monday, Granger?”

“No,” she answered slowly. “It’s a nice change, actually.”

Tom’s smile faded into a glower. “Let us hope it lasts.”

Granger’s mouth twitched with mirth. “Yes, let’s.”

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Harry stayed in his office, working, and Tom remained at his cubicle, also working. A half hour before they were due for lunch, Pansy came over to their clump of cubicles. Likely she was here to gossip, Tom thought with interest as she approached girl-Weasley’s workspace.

“So you know where Harry lives, yes?” Pansy asked. “Draco says you came in together the other day.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Call it curiosity.” Pansy gave her hips a sway. “A catch like that, you know. Bit oblivious, maybe. Brown was in the other day when he came by. He didn’t even bat an eye at her.”

“Harry’s too proper for that,” Granger chimed in from her cubicle. Her voice was sharper than usual. “He’s not one for office romance with just anyone.”

Rightly so. Everyone remembered, rather vividly, the dramatics between Granger, Weasley, and Brown. The trauma of it had kept the water cooler talk going for three entire weeks.

“Harry lives on his own, if that’s what you mean. Ron and I didn’t get a look inside or anything. That’d be weird, don’t you think? He’s our boss.”

Pansy pouted. “Isn’t there _anything_ interesting you learned? A gym nearby? Or where he plays rugby with his friends?”

There was a pause, and then girl-Weasley snorted. “Way to make it obvious, Parkinson.”

“Oh, I _live_ to please.” Pansy grinned widely and bent over, hands clasped on her knees as she beamed down at Ginny. “Besides, even if he isn’t interested in women, he might have a friend or two who _is,_ wouldn’t you say?”

“This is stalking,” Granger said disapprovingly.

“It’s an exchange of information,” Pansy defended. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I know what you’ve been betting on.” Then, quite deliberately, Pansy shifted her head in Tom’s direction. And winked.

Tom had not been watching closely—he wasn’t foolish enough to be caught eavesdropping—but the gesture did not escape his peripheral vision. Neither did the implications of that statement.

The office betting pool had existed even prior to Tom’s induction to the company. It was _tradition,_ even, for the employees of this branch to encourage and participate in said pool. 

Despite finding it distasteful, Tom had partaken a couple of times, mostly for the bragging rights but occasionally for the extra pocket money. He had a knack for predicting or manipulating outcomes in his favour; he would have been foolish if he did not take advantage of that.

If there were bets going on about him and Harry, then there were sides to be had and aid to be taken. Tom waited patiently for Pansy to leave, then stood and walked over to girl-Weasley’s desk.

“Bet?” he asked her bluntly.

Girl-Weasley smiled blankly at him. “Why, yes, Riddle. A bet. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Tom was not someone involved as a subject in the office betting pools. Most of them involved romance or other such frivolities involving his coworkers that he did not care for. Therefore, he kept his nose out of the drama and focused on his ambitions. 

This was a first for him, and he did not appreciate being uninformed of this fact. Perhaps he’d been too preoccupied with Harry lately. It was unlike him to let something as important as this slip beneath his notice. 

A small part of him, however, was rather pleased that everyone was interested enough in the outcome to part with their money over it. Not to mention that if there _was_ money exchanging hands, they were as good as condoning what he planned to do.

Tom eyed Ginny silently, debating what response would work best on her. “If you have a bet, then you have a side. If you have a side,” he continued, speaking as though he was talking to a child, “then you ought to help whoever is involved.” The involved person being himself, obviously.

“Maybe so.” Girl-Weasley smiled wider. “You make an excellent point, Riddle.”

Tom stared back, stone faced. “Where does Harry live?”

Granger made an offended noise and came wheeling around her cubicle wall to glare at them. “That’s _cheating,_ Ginny. They’ll call you on it if they find out.”

“I’ll say I asked him myself,” Tom interjected. “No one has to know.” Though, admittedly, he was curious as to why girl-Weasley had chosen his side of the issue to bet on. He did not consider them to be on friendly terms. On good days, they were cordial. On bad days, they snapped at each other like piranhas.

“Pansy went through the trouble of coming over here and dropping hints,” Ginny retorted. “I’d argue at this point she must be more invested in the outcome than we are.”

“Still,” Granger said, doubtful, “I want us to win this outright.”

“Do you all really have nothing better to do,” Tom deadpanned, folding his arms over his chest. It did surprise him that Granger was involved, and on his side no less. “Simply give me the information I need, and I can assure you that you will pocket your delightful, hardwon winnings in due time.”

Granger glared at him. “No need to make us sound like criminals.”

Tom scoffed. “You are the ones betting on my love life, Granger. You hardly have moral ground to stand on.”

“To be fair,” Girl-Weasley mused, “we didn’t know it was possible for you to even _have_ one until recently.”

“Very amusing,” Tom said flatly. “How clever of you to notice I have _standards.”_

“Don’t worry, the general consensus is that you’re very adorable,” she reassured him. “I doubt there’s a single person in this building that prefers ol’ stick-up-the-arse Riddle to this new, lovely besotted model you’ve got going on.” She gestured up and down his person, a smirk plastered to her lips.

“Address, before I decide it is no longer in my best interests to be kind,” Tom demanded. “You seem to forget there is a reason why I don’t participate in your childish betting games, Weasley, and that reason is I have enough to bury all of you if I liked.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Ginny said. “As if I care whether you tell Ron that I like to have a little fun on the weekends.”

Granger made a funny choking noise at that, then retreated to her cubicle. Her giggling was still very much audible.

“Address?” Tom repeated, frustrated.

“Fine, fine. Only because I find you so wonderfully convincing.” Girl-Weasley reached for her pen and scrawled out an address onto a sticky note. “Have fun stalking him. I hear the gym down the block is full of hot blokes.” She dangled the note out in front of him.

Tom snatched it up and walked away without bothering to say anything further. Bloody gossiping, meddling hens, the lot of them. Now that he had gotten what he needed, there was no longer any reason to be kind.

To his right, Harry’s office door creaked open. Tom turned to look, automatically attentive to the sound. If Harry required help, Tom would be the first through the door.

Harry shuffled into the doorway, blinking out at the cubicles. He stood there for a second as his gaze focused on Tom, who was the only person easily within sight.

“Did you need help with something?” Tom required politely, as if he did not have Harry’s home address written on a yellow sticky note and pinched between his fingers.

“No,” Harry said immediately. “I mean, no. Maybe.” He squinted. “D’you mind coming in here for a moment, Tom?”

“Not at all.” Tom smiled and made his way over, taking care to tuck the note into his shirt pocket as he went.

Harry ushered Tom into his office and shut the door behind them both. Unfortunately, Harry did not sit down right away. Instead he began to pace the room, a nervous circuit that set off alarm bells in Tom’s head.

“Is something the matter, Harry?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” Harry bit down on his lower lip—a habit of his that was the result of anxiety.

“Take your time,” Tom said, seating himself. “I am here to listen.”

Harry breathed in, then out, then made another lap around the tiny office space. He halted in place and swiveled in Tom’s direction. His eyes, green as ever, were suddenly very serious.

“I think Quirrell’s been framed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ending ran away from me and got all dramatic lmfao but -jazz hands- enjoy!
> 
> * * *
> 
> ALSO lookie here again:
> 
> **Come join 'The Room of Requirement', a community Discord server for fans of the Harry/Tom | Voldemort ship (and characters). The server is 16+ and can be found[HERE](https://discord.gg/2suak9y)!**


	10. Imagine Having Morals; Can't Relate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is hard when your name is Tom Riddle and all your problems are your own fault.

“They’ve been in there a while,” Hermione mused. “What on earth do you think they’re talking about?”

“Getting down and dirty,” Ginny replied automatically, and was promptly rewarded with a wadded-up ball of paper tossed in her general direction.

“Not everything is about sex.”

“But it could be! And you don’t know, maybe Riddle’s finally succeeded and he’s snogging the living daylights out of Harry right this second.”

Hermione went quiet, likely imagining said scenario in excruciating detail. Then she said in a whisper, “Do you think so?”

Ginny snickered. “One can hope.”

“Harry’s so shy,” mused Hermione. “Riddle took him out to lunch last week, and that still wasn’t enough.”

“That was with our help, too!” Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, then scooted her chair over to Hermione’s cubicle so they could talk face to face. “Honestly. _Men._ They’re so hopeless.”

Hermione nodded in solemn agreement, then turned her attention to the closed door of Harry’s office. “If Riddle does wind up needing Harry’s address, what do you think will happen?”

Ginny was used to being asked this; she prided herself on her ability to accurately predict outcomes when it came to drama in the office. In addition to that, she was also excellent at spinning a raunchy tale.

“Riddle’s very thorough. He’ll take his time researching the area, staking it out, getting other opinions. Then he’ll narrow his options down. Personally? I’m hoping for a grocery meetcute. Wouldn’t that be the best?” Ginny leant back in her chair. “Harry with his buggy full of sad microwaveable meals and pasta. It’ll be easy for Riddle to whisk him away.”

_“Does_ Harry eat microwavable meals?”

Ginny waved a dismissive hand. “He’s a bachelor. He must have them.”

Hermione quirked her lips in concession. “So then what happens? How does Riddle convince him?”

Ginny grinned, then spoke in an affected posh accent, “Oh, you know. He sways his hips and pouts, makes a comment on Harry’s _deplorable_ food choices and insinuates that if they were _dating,_ there would be gourmet meals on a weekly basis.”

“Riddle cooks gourmet meals?” Hermione said skeptically.

“Have you _seen_ what he brings to work? It’s not _expensive_ gourmet, but the combinations are things you only see in cooking shows on the telly. And he goes to that restaurant up the block that Ron says is ‘rabbit food’. Riddle’s got particular tastes.”

“I still find it hard to imagine Riddle cooking for Harry,” Hermione admitted.

“Fine! Picture this.” Ginny held her hands up and spread them out, fingers splayed, to symbolize the magic of what she was about to describe. “Riddle standing in Harry’s kitchen, cute white apron tied on over a casual jumper and denim jeans. The sizzle of meat on a pan. Fragrant scents of rosemary and lemon wafting through the air. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms—”

“That’s—” Hermione cut off, flustered. “Who thinks about Riddle like _that?”_

“Harry is sitting at the table a short distance away, positively drooling over the hot younger man who is serving looks in his apartment flat.”

“Please,” Hermione began, her entire face now scrunched in disgust, “please never use the words _‘hot younger man’_ to refer to Riddle ever again.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You are horrible.”

* * *

“I think Quirrell’s been framed,” Harry said.

Tom permitted himself three seconds of utter shock. Shock that he allowed to flit across his face because Harry would be expecting it. “Framed?”

“I was reviewing the work we did yesterday,” Harry said, “and some of it just doesn’t add up.”

Count on Draco _not_ doing his job to be what unearthed Tom’s manipulations. Absolutely preposterous. If only Draco worked this hard at his _actual_ job, then he would be more suited for Slytherin.

“And so you think this was a setup? To what end?” Tom struggled to rein his impulses in, to maintain the correct inflection and facial expression.

“I’m not sure yet. What was Quirrell like, as your manager? The general impression I’ve gotten so far wasn’t very positive.” Harry pressed his lips into a flat line.

“He never did anything around here, if that’s what people were implying. We’d have been better left to our own devices than led by that incompetent lout.”

“So people didn’t like him much?”

Tom thought it over. What would the best response be? If Harry believed that many people disliked Quirrell, then there was more reason to believe the man had been framed. Tom decided it was in his own interests to tell the truth. 

“No one hated him. He was a figurehead—nothing more, nothing less. So long as he never interfered, most of us were content to go on with our work. The lack of leadership was a detriment to overall productivity, but it was neither harmful nor a reason for dislike. For lazier workers, it was even a benefit.”

“I see.” Harry sighed and moved to his desk, collapsing into his chair. “Maybe I should just pass this along to head office. I’m honestly not even sure about what I’m looking at. Accounting was never my strong suit in university. I think the professor hated me.”

“I could take a look, if you like.”

Harry pondered that, then said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Tom. I think I would get in trouble for doing that.”

“I helped you discover the error, didn’t I?” Tom insisted. “You said so yourself that you’re uncertain. If you let me look, I can confirm for you if there is an error or not.”

“I—I’ll think about it.”

Why had Harry called him here, if not to ask for help? Tom sat down across from Harry and braced his forearms on the table. “You don’t have to carry this burden on your own. I understand it must be very stressful for you. I’d like to help as much as I can.”

“I can handle it, really, I just needed to vent, I suppose. And I do trust you, for what it’s worth.” Harry smiled wanly. “I’d show you if I could.”

“I would never tell,” Tom assured him. “You can trust me, Harry. The well-being of this company matters to me. I only wish to see it succeed.”

Harry’s smile widened at that into a more genuine version of itself. “I can tell. Not enough people are loyal to their workplaces these days. I think it’s one of my favourite things about this branch. I can tell that everyone gets along, even if there are hiccups from time to time. Everyone here is like family.”

A family. Tom didn’t think of his coworkers like family. They were tolerable and productive when they put the effort in. They were an excellent team when the correct motivations were in place.

“The environment here is very close knit,” Tom agreed.

“Yeah, which is great.” Harry leant back in his chair. “I’d hate to see everyone moved around because of something like this.”

“Moved?”

Harry shifted, distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, it was bad enough with the scandal surrounding Quirrell. If this gets any bigger, they might dismantle this entire location. Shuffle people around and give it a fresh start.”

Tom didn’t want that. The hierarchy was established here; he knew what to say and do to get the results he wanted. If he was moved elsewhere, he would have to begin again, and by that point it would be easier to take up Lucius’ offer of a more lucrative job.

“It won’t come to that,” Tom said with confidence.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the set of his glasses. “I hope not.”

* * *

Tom went back to his desk and began to dig for information. Since Harry refused to share what he had discovered, Tom would find it himself. Tom had access to most of the files they had looked at yesterday, and what he did not have access to, he would get Draco to pull for him. 

Although Tom was irritated at this development, he _was_ begrudgingly impressed that Harry had caught him out.

It took Tom approximately half an hour to locate the appropriate, available files and make copies of them to take home. Then he visited the accounting department to strongarm Draco into handing over the rest. Draco was unaware of what Tom had done to Quirrell; he was simply an unlucky moron with a penchant for ruining Tom’s plans. 

However, that knowledge did nothing to lessen the severity of Tom’s request. Tom gave Draco a list of the files he required and told Draco to keep quiet if he valued his life and his job, precisely in that order. 

Draco would keep his mouth shut, Tom believed, unless a larger and scarier threat came along and frightened him. That meant this was not a foolproof plan, but there was nothing illegal about Tom asking for file access. If Harry found out, Tom would say that he had been trying to help—which he was, in a way. He was helping himself, and he was helping Harry. A reshuffle would tank this branch’s numbers even more; something that looked poor on any manager’s portfolio regardless of the extenuating circumstances.

An hour later, Draco came by with an unmarked manilla folder, which he deposited onto Tom’s desk. Files secured, Tom went about the rest of his work day as usual. He planned to take the files home and look them over there. So his afternoon was uneventful, and by the time five o’clock arrived, Tom was eager and ready to leave.

His drive home was filled with impatience and irritation at poor drivers. Tom arrived at his flat, set his work things aside, and reheated one of his pre-cooked meals in the microwave. Quick and easy nourishment while he poured over the accounting files, looking for mistakes. 

Tom was hopeful that the mistake was a genuine one, something unrelated to himself. In that case, he would point it out to Harry and be lauded as a workplace hero.

If there _was_ something Tom had missed, then he would need to consider his course of action more carefully. With a problem as complex as this, there were many variables to account for. His own security, first of all. Not to mention Harry’s role in all this, precarious as it was. Lastly, the security and good fortune of the branch and the firm. 

While Tom ate his dinner, he went over the files. Then he went over them again. It took some time, but he located the discrepancy that must have been the cause of Harry’s suspicions. Unfortunately, said discrepancy did not bode well for Tom. On a surface level, this error would not be traced back to him—Tom was too clever for such a simple mistake to catch him wrong footed. But if Harry continued to dig, to look for answers, the truth might come to light. 

Tom was uncertain if this situation could have been prevented. If he had not courted Harry to begin with, this small error would have gone unnoticed, buried underneath piles and piles of paperwork, discernible only to the keenest of eyes. It was unlikely that his plan would have gone up in flames if he had left well enough alone and stuck to his original plan of sabotaging the new manager. 

Although, part of why his first plan had worked was because no one _cared_ enough about Quirrell to argue in his favour. Quirrell’s performance at this branch was abysmal enough that it made _sense_ for him to try and cheat the firm out of a few extra thousand. Not to mention that the man had less than stellar side hobbies that did not look appropriate on paper. 

By all means, it was supposed to be an open-and-shut case. Quirrell would do community service, pay a large fine, and be on his merry way—a way that did not impede Tom’s path of success.

Tom rubbed at his temples, noting that he now had a headache. His relationship with Harry had just grown more complex. Even when Harry consented to a relationship, his sense of morality might prevent him from allowing Tom to get away with such a crime. 

This posed a serious problem. Tom could fast track his plans to woo Harry in the hopes that securing the man’s loyalty would give him time to cover his tracks, or at least convince Harry to let this go. Harry might be persuaded if he felt personal attachment to Tom. Harry was already fond of him, attracted to him, and appreciative of his talent and efforts. 

Tom fingered the staple that pinched together one of the thick stacks of accounting files. All his plans, in fact, hinged on Harry’s reaction. This was frustrating. Harry was too decent, too kind, too _upright_ to do anything less than what his internal moral compass told him. If he felt Tom was in the wrong, he would do what it took to right the injustice.

Such tenacity was admirable, if misplaced. The corporate world was not a friendly place. Tom had clawed his way into his current position by virtue of his ambition and charm—even that had only gotten him so far.

Therefore, to win Harry to his side, Tom would have to convince Harry that he _was_ in the right. That the actions he had taken were correct and justified, if not by the letter of the law, then by the moral compass that existed in Harry’s heart. If Tom could not convince Harry that Quirrell was _guilty_ of the crime, then he would have to convince Harry that Quirrell had _deserved_ it.

Tom closed the top of the manilla folder and leant back in his chair with a sigh. Though he had always prided himself on his persuasive abilities, this could definitely prove to be quite the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much plot, such wow. also look at me, possibly finishing this story? who am i

**Author's Note:**

> find me & my writing updates on tumblr [here](https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com)!
> 
> feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing [here](https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5)!


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